


Breathe

by Soquilii9



Category: Lethal Weapon (TV)
Genre: Gen, Major Character Injury, Open to Interpretation, Possible Character Death, Soliloquy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:58:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: Lethal Weapon had two good seasons.  Yep, I'm one of those Clayne Crawford die-hards who won't be watching Season Three.  I predict the 3rd season will fail without the main character who is described, after all, in the title.  Plus I'm a huge Clayne Crawford fan.  I think he got a raw deal.  The more time passes the angrier I get.Turns out I was right.  He Who Shall Remain Nameless shot a hole in the show.  Murder in the first degree.  Hang the bastard.This is a short, extended scene to the last episode; how I imagine Martin Riggs and the aftermath.  It isn't finished yet but at the moment I think I'm going through LW grief, unable to write the show until I recover from its loss.  I've seen many a good show end but never on such a sour note as this one.Since I plan more stories for the future, and in the aftermath of the death of Lethal Weapon at the hands of He Who Shall Remain Nameless, I am literally re-casting Murtaugh.  I've 'hired' Idris Elba to play his part.  Right age, right height, perfect.  All other characters will be the same.  Season Three will continue!





	1. Chapter 1

 

   

 

_Breathe, Baby._

The last words he would ever hear her say, spoken over the phone, miles away.  _Breathe, Baby_ \- her last directive.

Right this minute, he was concentrating on doing just that.  Miranda’s voice kept echoing that phrase in his head, like it was nothing; like it was _all_ he had to do, versus what _she_ was in for.  Breathe.  Like it was _easy_.  It _was_ easy then.

Damned sure wasn’t easy _now_.  Lyin’ on the ground right here beside her.  How ironic was that?

If he could only keep breathing until the EMTs arrived, he could at least tell them who the perp was:  his father’s son; his own weasel of a half-brother, Garrett.  Guess he didn’t like me killing his old man.  For me, it was justice a long time coming.  Bashed in that sick bastard's brains.  With a rock.  When did I stoop to killing with rocks?!

Martin groaned, gasping.  His eyes closed; behind them was a mind still racing, willing his body to keep going.  What an effort trying to live was, when it would be so easy to go to sleep.  When had his life ever been easy?

Didn’t hurt at first.  Now it was startin’ to burn like hell.  Guess that was a good thing; if it didn’t hurt I’d really be in for it.

I think the little bastard nicked my heart.  I’ve heard Scorsese say something about surgical repair being possible on the right atrium; somebody could survive a shot to the heart.  I felt the hole, just about there, and it’s not gushing blood, just oozing.  Another good thing, I suppose.

Damn it, Miranda, I don’t wanna leave you but I sure wish they’d come _on_.  Or … what if they don’t ... and I _don’t_ leave you?  What better place to join you than right here where you are?  Or _are_ you here?  Are you up there in the clouds?  Who the hell knows.

Ok, suppose they _don’t_ come.  Wouldn’t that be another fine piece of irony, Babe?  Roger once asked me if I was gonna go home and off myself.  I said _not tonight, but I want to_.  Then I said _I can’t do it myself_ , and he wanted to know why.

I said, ‘c _ause she’d be ashamed of me._

And now here I am, courtesy of Riggs, Inc. but not by my own hand.  Thing is, am I ok with it?  Or mad as hell?  We had a life planned and you got snatched away.  Two years later I have another life planned and _I’m_ snatched away.  Is somebody trying to tell us something?  Were we just stumbling through life, not really meant to be?

And I'm just now thinking of Molly, aw hell, Molly.  I feel for her and Ben, too.  It was getting there.  It was gonna be good.  What’s next for them if I buy the farm?

Getting sleepy.  Pain is starting to fade.  I guess the old bod is giving up.  I can actually see Miranda.  _Hiya, Babe._

Are those sirens I hear, finally?  I gotta have a serious talk with Cap about response time …  Cap.  Wait, that’s _Roger_ now.  How in hell is that gonna work out?  I was goin’ back to Texas.  If I don’t do that, who’s he gonna pair me with?  Bowman?  Frankly, I’d rather work with Bailey.  Or do I go to Texas with a new family …

I got a serious decision to make here …

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin Riggs' thoughts in the aftermath of being shot

Man, once the EMTs finally got there they bundled me into that ambulance faster than I thought possible.  I wasn’t able to talk by then; couldn’t tell ‘em about Garrett.  Time enough for that later.  Should be easy to track that little bastard.  Everything down to his DNA is on record.  Attempted murder on a cop.  He's. Going. Down.  Imagine talking that way about my own brother.  Well ... blood don't make relatives.

I barely felt all the shovin' and pinchin' and probin' those EMTs love to do; not as much as doctors, but almost as bad ... heard 'em say somethin' about crackin' my chest and gettin' me on bypass in the OR, stat.  They couldn't use the defibrillator; I was glad of that.  Had that happen to me a few years back and I felt _that_ son of a bitch!  Zap!  Zap!  _Zap!  Enough,_ already, guys!!  But with a GSW to the heart their options were limited.  All that equipment beepin' and the siren blarin,' annoying as hell. 

I know Rog must have got the call, but I don’t remember him bein' there.  I guess I’ll find out what happened later.

What was _with_ him, anyway, wanting me to tell him I _loved_ him?  How gay was _that_?  I didn’t love him.  I loved his family; I loved Trish and the kids, sure.  Rog?  He was my partner.  It was a _job_.  I was fond of the man, yeah, but … love?  C’mon, gimme a break.  Not good to get that tight with people, anyway.  You end up losin’ ‘em.

Things went black for a while; for all I know it could be next year.  Now I’m all clean and comfy and doped in a hospital bed in the ICU.  Not all that comfy, actually; I can't even move.  Consciousness comes and goes and it’s just my luck that it goes when anybody walks in.  I wanna ask ‘em how the surgery went.  I wanna tell 'em Garrett did it.  I wanna know if I can still be a cop.  Not a desk cop.  A COP.

Huh.  I just realized I’m gonna have a scar just like Roger’s.  A big, fat, raised line all the way down my sternum.  Bet I don’t point it out and whine half as much as I heard Trish say he does.  I'll get out of the shower, glance at it in the mirror and shrug.  Walk it off.

My stomach’s growling!  Well, if that ain’t a good sign I don’t know what is.  Wonder who operated on me?  Must be a damn wizard.  Gotta thank him when I see him.  Although the department is gonna thank him plenty with all that insurance money.  Still, he certainly deserves a handshake. 

Gotta admit … even after seeing Miranda beckoning me from the door of Heaven … I wasn’t quite ready to follow her just yet.  Why, I wonder?  Duty?  My relationship with Molly and Ben?  The fact that I haven’t seen forty yet?  Would be nice to make the big Four-O.  No sense feeling guilty that Miranda didn’t even see thirty years; can’t change that.  I guess I’m just not done with living yet.  Lots to do.  Lots of bad guys waiting to be caught.

Now the question is, how many more bad guys are in El Paso than L.A.?  Which state needs me more?  Hey, how ‘bout you guys play a hand of poker to see who gets me? 

Aw, shit, it hurts to laugh.

Wait, I still don’t know if Molly finished packing, got pissed and left without me ... or does she even know what happened?

So many questions that need answers!  Too damn tired right now to worry about it ... need to sleep.

You came close, Garrett, you little bastard, but no cigar.  I do believe I’m gonna have time to find the answers.


End file.
